The harrowing Cold Food Festival banquet finally came to an end, and Xue Xiuzhuo removed Han Cheng’s waist token. The imperial guard, having lost their banner and wary of legitimate authority, did not dare to charge again, and under the influence of Li Jieting’s words—“The Crown Prince is here”—they retreated.
The generals of the Eight Great Garrison Armies stationed outside the palace were all waiting at the Han residence, while inside the estate wine cups clinked and laughter flowed; they had received no news at all.
“The Grand Commander still hasn’t returned. Don’t tell me he’s been kept there by that Kong Buran.”
The young man of the Han clan reclined on a couch, taking heavy drags from his pipe. Hearing this, he let out a cold hum and said, “Even though Kong Qiu doesn’t get along with the Grand Commander, we’ve got troops in hand. Twenty thousand city troops alone could surround the royal palace at the first sign of trouble—who would dare act rashly? It’s just a bunch of weak scholars. Do they really think everything rests on Qi Zhuyin? Qi Zhuyin won’t be able to run either.”
Hua Shisan listened to the singing from the stage, swaying his head as he hummed along, his folding fan rhythmically tapping his palm.
“The Grand Commander is a peerless hero. Those paper-pushers in the palace aren’t his match. Why worry needlessly?”
This Hua Shisan was an illegitimate son of the Hua family from Yicheng. In his early years, he had interfered in the affairs of the imperial guards and had once been disciplined by Xiao Chiye. Fearful of Xiao Caisan, he fled back home and idled in Yicheng, only daring to return to the capital after Xiao Chiye left Dun Capital.
“Besides,” Hua Shisan said, raising his fan and pointing upward smugly, “my aunt is there. Who would dare touch the Grand Commander?”
The young man of the Han clan exhaled a plume of smoke, exchanging a knowing smile with him. Both were useless rich second-generation wastrels; neither looked down on the other.
“In a few days Fei Shi will arrive,” the Han youth signaled for a servant girl to pack more tobacco. “We’ll throw him a banquet and properly welcome him. Pan Cheng is dead—he’s been holding in his frustration.”
Hua Shisan closed his fan and leaned closer. “If you ask me, Pan Cheng’s death was a good thing. If he hadn’t died, what was the point of sending him to Huaizhou in exile? He would’ve died sooner or later in our hands anyway. If anything, it would’ve ruined our relationship with Fei Shi. Not worth it.”
Pan Lin had already submitted the account books of the Eight Cities—this matter was significant.
They had never imagined that Han Cheng would not return alive. Ever since the Yongyi era, the Eight Great Garrisons had been acting like overlords in the capital, and only during the Xian-de years did Xiao Chiye’s imperial guards once threaten their dominance. But after the imperial guards left, they once again became the city army of Dun Capital, arrogant and unrestrained, long since forgetting caution.
As they drank and indulged in leisure, time passed further into the night.
Hua Shisan, slightly drunk, leaned back and lifted his legs onto the chair, calling for the opera performer to come massage his legs. In his drunken boldness, he pinched the actress’s face and teased her, “Little lady, how old are you? You look unfamiliar.”
The Han youth behind him stretched his neck and boasted, “Do you know who she is? She’s one of the top performers under Xi Hongxuan! A famous beauty of Dun Capital. Once you walk out of this door, you won’t find her anywhere else.”
The group took turns teasing the actress, their words becoming increasingly vulgar. Outside, the night watch drum sounded a few beats, and the household servants lit palace lanterns under the eaves.
Dun Capital lay in quiet stillness.
Qi Wei led the garrison troops and killed the city gate deputy general before infiltrating Dun Capital. He timed it carefully—after the third quarter of the Hour of the Ox, he raised his hand to signal his subordinates to surround the Han residence.
Hua Shisan, half asleep, suddenly felt the urge to urinate. As he walked through the corridor, he noticed a faint glow ahead. Looking closely, he realized—there was a fire.
Hua Shisan’s bladder nearly froze in fear. He pulled up his trousers and ran back, shouting at the servants, “It’s on fire! Why is no one putting it out? Quickly! Send the city troops stationed in the outer courtyard to fetch water and extinguish it!”
This estate belonged to Han Cheng. If he returned tomorrow and saw his home burned down, they would all be doomed.
As Hua Shisan looked around in panic, the others of the Han clan also came out upon hearing the commotion, standing under the eaves to watch as the fire grew larger and larger.
“What’s going on?” the Han youth grew anxious. “Why hasn’t it been put out yet?”
A guard at the gate replied, “This fire is strange—it comes and goes. It must be deliberate arson. Sixth Master, please take a look at the gate. The city troops will listen to your command!”
The Han youth did not dare delay. He grabbed the people beside him and hurried toward the gate with Hua Shisan and the others.
Before they even arrived, they heard someone shout from the front: “They’re breaking in!”
Hua Shisan’s expression changed drastically. “Breaking in? Who’s breaking in?!”
The servants were already in chaos. Someone shouted back, “We can’t see clearly—it’s too dark! Anyone who sees the city troops is killing them! They’re pushing their way inside!”
The Han youth dropped his tobacco pipe in shock, grabbing his robe as he stumbled forward, then immediately retreated, shouting, “Send orders! Bring all city troops from the training grounds to reinforce us!”
But without Han Cheng’s waist token, he could not mobilize the city troops at the training grounds at all.
The sounds of slaughter in the front yard drew closer. The guards at the gate could not hold the line. Seeing the situation turn dire, Hua Shisan no longer cared about anyone else and fled with the panicked servants. The Han youth, unable even to wield a blade properly, followed as well.
Qi Wei stormed through the gate with firelight in hand. Wherever he encountered city troops, he struck them down without hesitation. The Eight Great Garrisons, long accustomed to life in Dun Capital, had not faced such fierce resistance since their last encirclement of Xiao Chiye. Several commanders hesitated and retreated, and the soldiers below them scattered in confusion, only to be cut down steadily by the garrison forces.
The garrison troops did not let the fire burn for long. The Eight Great Garrisons were scattered across different locations with no communication between units. A prolonged blaze would inevitably raise suspicion. By the time the fire in the Han residence was extinguished, bodies already lay everywhere in the courtyard. Qi Wei did not spare Hua Shisan and the others—he captured the entire group of idle nobles. Only the Han youth managed to escape through a dog hole.
At dawn, faint light broke across the sky. Court officials escorted Li Jieting to Mingli Hall, followed by a flurry of edicts. First, the Han clan’s noble titles were revoked; then Han Cheng was denounced with eight major crimes. On the charge of “colluding with conspirators and plotting rebellion,” the entire Han clan was ordered to be exterminated. The collateral branches of the Han family in Wucheng fled in all directions upon hearing the news, scattering like birds and beasts with whatever valuables they could carry.
In just a few days, Dun Capital underwent a drastic upheaval. Before the common people could even react, a new master had already ascended the throne. The Empress Dowager lay ill in bed, and in the midst of his overwhelming duties, the Crown Prince still had to honor her as Grand Empress Dowager. He personally administered medicine daily, attending to her bedside.
Cen Yu submitted a memorial praising the Crown Prince’s virtue and filial piety, and praise spread throughout the court. With the Empress Dowager aged and frail, calls for the Crown Prince’s accession to the throne grew stronger by the day.
“The winds and waves in Dun Capital have settled,” Yao Wenyu said as he scattered feed into the koi pond. “The Grand Commander should return to the border regions now.”
“Xiao Caisan has already returned to the battlefield. By the time the Grand Commander returns, he should also be arriving in the border region,” Shen Zechuan said, turning slightly to face the sunlight as he examined the jade pendant in his palm. “Han Cheng died too easily.”
This news had only just arrived.
Yao Wenyu brushed residual feed from his fingers. “The Empress Dowager is beyond saving. She cannot withstand the noble families destroying themselves. Once the Crown Prince ascends the throne, he will surely confer titles upon the Grand Commander. It is a strategy of stockpiling grain for times of famine.”
Shen Zechuan toyed with the jade pendant and smiled.
Yao Wenyu continued, “The Lord intends for Ge Qingqing to return to Dun Capital but does not allow him to act. He must be reserved for greater use.”
“Ge Qingqing is not urgent. That piece only becomes useful after the Crown Prince ascends the throne,” Shen Zechuan said, glancing at Yao Wenyu. “I’m looking forward to her coronation.”
Willow branches swayed beside the pond. Hu Nu pounced after a butterfly, rolling to Yao Wenyu’s feet and getting covered in dust. Yao Wenyu reached down to stroke it.
“The Lord sees far ahead,” he said softly.
“Xue Yanqing wanted a ‘monarch,’ and heaven really gave him one,” Shen Zechuan smiled faintly. “But a truly powerful monarch would never be controlled by others.”
“Fear,” Yao Wenyu murmured.
“Correct,” Shen Zechuan said, watching a school of koi scatter beneath the surface as they surged up and dispersed again, as if fully fed. “Xue Yanqing is a man of power.”
In supporting the Crown Prince and supervising land taxation, Xue Xiuzhuo had made great contributions. He neither embezzled nor seized land, yet he was undeniably a man of power. In this world, wise emperors were not afraid of powerful ministers—but they were always wary of those powerful ministers who seemed to desire nothing.
“If Xue Yanqing is willing to exert himself here, he should give the Crown Prince an opportunity to obtain leverage over him,” Shen Zechuan said. “Even if fabricated, it must be enough to reassure the Crown Prince.”
Without leverage, there was nothing to restrain him.
Yao Wenyu pondered. “With Xue Xiuzhuo’s temperament, he would not leave himself any handles for the Crown Prince.”
Shen Zechuan said meaningfully, “Then he is in danger.”
The line between loyalty and treachery was sometimes indistinct; the final judgment lay in Li Jieting’s hands. From Ge Qingqing’s account, Shen Zechuan had already pieced together what had happened at the Cold Food Festival banquet. The Crown Prince was not a mere ornamental figure placed by Xue Xiuzhuo. She was like a thorned vine, taking root beside the throne, growing rapidly with strength far beyond others.
“Since Han Cheng is dead, Han Jin is no longer useful,” Shen Zechuan said, as if only now remembering him. He addressed Fei Sheng behind him, “Open Han Jin’s door. Release him. Send him back to Wucheng.”
Fei Sheng had assumed Shen Zechuan would keep Han Jin, and found it a pity, but did not dare speak.
“The Great Zhou is already fragmented and broken. It is still unknown how many forces the Son of Heaven can truly command,” Yao Wenyu said, turning his wheelchair slightly. “The Crown Prince will not internalize conflict with Xue Xiuzhuo at this moment. The priority now is the border region. In the fifth month, the Grand Commander will attack the territory of the Qingshu tribe. The Youxiong tribe will not remain indifferent for long. I fear another brutal war will break out.”
“The food supply in Qidong is sufficient. Qi Zhuyin is not afraid,” Shen Zechuan said. “But Zhongbo does not support useless people. Hai Rigu has been idle for nearly half a year. It is time to let him go out.”
Yao Wenyu understood immediately. “The Lord intends to use Hai Rigu to negotiate with the Youxiong tribe?”
“I heard that Amur is only the leader of six tribes, and the Youxiong tribe has not yet submitted,” Shen Zechuan said, still watching the water. “The lands of the Qingshu tribe all belong to Amur, and they have already sent their grain to the northern battlefield for Hasen. Now the Youxiong tribe is forced into war for food—and we are not short on grain.”
Amur had used scorpions to divide the Great Zhou. Now Shen Zechuan would use a different kind of scorpion, keeping it in his hand would be wasteful. He would make Hai Rigu useful.
“The Qingshu tribe, the Youxiong tribe, Gedale, and the Huicai tribe in the north,” Shen Zechuan turned back. “Connect all these places, and that will be the New Year’s gift I send to Amur.”
What Amur had stolen from Zhongbo could not be taken back directly—but it could be repaid in another way. From the land of the Qingshu tribe to the territory of the Huicai tribe, this line just happened to cut across the banks of the Chashi River.
“There are not enough strong defensive walls in Duanzhou,” Shen Zechuan said lightly, the tassel in his fingers swaying. “And as it happens, neither does the Youxiong tribe.”